


Keep It Hushed

by sixtysevenlmpala



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Discovery, Discovery Kink, Hand Jobs, Impala Sex, M/M, Teasing, Tumblr Prompt, Weecest, Weechesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-12
Updated: 2013-06-12
Packaged: 2017-12-14 19:01:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/840286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixtysevenlmpala/pseuds/sixtysevenlmpala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the anonymous prompt: "Weecest with an R rating, John finds them/Discovery Kink?"<br/>In the front seat, the father is snoring resonantly, but in the back there’s movement, quiet whispers of a name.<br/>Originally posted on <a href="http://sixtysevenlmpala.tumblr.com/post/51420617219/the-impalas-parked-under-the-stars-sitting-at">tumblr</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keep It Hushed

The Impala’s parked under the stars, sitting at the side of a nameless road. There’s a father slumped behind the wheel and two sons in the back, huddled together under a thick, scratchy blanket; their silhouettes melted into one in the dark. In the front seat, the father is snoring resonantly, but in the back there’s movement, quiet whispers of a name.

“Dean, Dean, I-I can’t— _Dean_.”

“Shhh,” Dean hushes. He’s got Sammy laid out on the seat, pinning him there with his weight as his mouth trails over Sam’s neck, breathes hot and filthy words into his ear. “Yeah, you can,” he murmurs, punctuating it with a squeeze of Sam’s cock, his hand wedged between them and shoved down Sam’s jeans – didn’t even have to undo them, they used to be Dean’s and the waistband is still loose on Sam’s skinny frame. Dean loves how he’s still so willowy and frail-looking even though he’s getting stronger every day, loves how his hipbones jut out sharply over low-slung waistbands and how if he arches his back just right, Dean can see his ribs standing out starkly under pale skin. Sometimes he takes the time to kiss each one of them, but not now. Now it’s about the rush, the hush.

“Oh, Jesus,” Sam gasps, gritting his teeth straight after, as Dean slides his hand slowly, firmly, down Sam’s shaft and back up, twisting his fist over the slick head. The movement spreads the slick leaking from Sam’s cock around, and Sam shudders, clamps his teeth down on his bottom lip.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet,” Dean mutters right into Sam’s ear, “so worked up, love it when you get like this.” He noses Sam’s hair out of the way, nuzzling into his skin and inhaling his sweet, clean Sam scent as he does so, and nips playfully at Sam’s earlobe. “And I bet I know why, huh.”

Sam lets out a tiny moan, and John shifts in the front. Both of their eyes snap to where he’s sitting, less than a metre away from where their heads are. In the safe cage of Dean’s fist, Sam’s cock twitches hard, blurts out another drop of pre-come, and when Dean looks down at his little brother his eyes are screwed tight shut, Dean’s name forming silently on his lips as his hands scrabble at Dean’s shoulders.

Dean chuckles. “Yeah, I know why.” He seals his mouth over a spot on Sam’s neck and sucks with a slow, purposeful intent, jacking Sam a little faster now, and when Sam hiccups out another desperate little whine, Dean whispers, “Better keep it quiet, Sammy, ‘less you want him to wake up an’ see you like this. You want that? Huh?” He twists his hand, flicks his wrist, and Sam shudders uncontrollably underneath him.

“Dean—“

“You want him to see you all sweaty and worked up, want him to see you ready to come all over yourself ‘cause of your big brother,” Dean goes on in a hushed tone, and it’s not a question anymore. It hasn’t been a question for a while.

“Shit,” Sam curses, his voice rising above a whisper, and John stirs again, mumbling in his sleep. Sam’s hips jerk up, fucking his cock through Dean’s fist, and Dean just lets him, strokes his free hand through Sam’s unruly hair. “Please, Dean, I need to—“

“S’okay, Sammy, I gotcha,” Dean mumbles, but then he smirks wickedly down at him. “You can go a little longer.”

“No,” Sam gasps quietly, and Dean can hear the strain in his voice to keep quiet and it shouldn’t turn him on as much as it does – “no, need it now, _please_ , wanna come.”

“Shhh,” Dean breathes, catching Sam’s lips in a kiss, but he doesn’t let it linger for too long, wants to hear Sam’s quiet little pleas as much as he can while he has the chance. “Little longer,” he repeats. He could make Sam come right now if he wanted to, done this so many times before that it’s almost second nature, almost knows how to get Sammy off better than he knows how to do it for himself. But he’s not going to, not yet. He’s gonna draw it out, because goddamn it if it doesn’t drive him crazy too; the thought of John finding out.

Realistically, if John were to wake up and if he even bothered to turn around, he’d see the huddled lumps of Sam and Dean under the blanket, and with the dark of the night cloaking them as well, he wouldn’t be able to see much more. But Dean’s realistic brain is so not the one that’s in charge right now, and he’d be willing to bet hard-hustled cash that Sam’s isn’t either. All Dean can fucking think about is that if he only gasps too harshly or if Sam lets out a moan that’s a little too loud, John could jolt awake and they’d be caught redhanded, he’d be caught looking into his dad’s face with his hand wrapped around his little brother’s cock. The mere _thought_ of it has him hard, sends a thrill up his spine and along each and every bone in his body, a mixture of guilt and fear and pure adrenaline-fueled pleasure swirling in his gut.

Sam muffles a soft cry in Dean’s shirt, face buried in his shoulder, and Dean bites his lip, switching up his grip on Sam so that he wasn’t so much fisting his cock but rubbing his palm up and down, trapping it between Dean’s hand and Sam’s flat little belly, hitching with his stuttery breaths. Sam’s really slicking the way by now, his cock jerking uncontrollably and dribbling out a little more pre-come down his own shaft and Dean’s fingers.

“What—“ Sam whispers, cutting himself off with a moan. “W-what would, what would he say,” he finally gets out, so quiet Dean barely hears him.

“I dunno,” Dean husks into his ear, his own cock throbbing in his jeans. “Probably be angry. Shocked. Seeing his little Sammy all flushed and turned-on. So desperate, squirming an’ moaning on the back seat of his car when he was right fuckin’ _there_.” Sam whimpers beneath him and Dean smirks, knowing how to push his buttons. “Look at you, Jesus. God, Sammy, you don’t know what you look like. He’d never have believed you were such a fuckin’ _slut_ —“ and Sam _moans_ , loud and completely indiscreet.

“Dean, o-oh my _god_ ,” Sam whines, his voice high and wavering, cracking in his throat in that adolescent way. “So-so close, please can I,” he whimpers, clutching at Dean’s shoulders, his hair, running his hands over his cheeks, any part of him he could reach.

“Gonna be quiet?” Dean asks, hiding his grin in Sam’s neck as he curled his hand around Sam’s cock once more, swiping his thumb over the head. “Gonna keep it quiet, huh, Sammy? Or you gonna let Daddy hear?” he pants out, and Sam’s hips stutter upwards into his fist.

“I’m—“ Sam whimpers, overwhelmed, and with a dark thrill, Dean deliberately _doesn’t_ cover his mouth with his own to muffle any sound that might come out, instead bites fiercely at Sam’s jaw, a place that always makes him cry out if they’re alone.

“C’mon,” he mutters, and Sam gasps, hips jerking violently as he comes, almost bucking Dean off and onto the floor with the force of it. Dean feels him spurt over his fingers and his own belly, strokes him as he shivers through it, and then Sam’s mouth falls open on a moan, loud and clear in the still of the night. Dean’s stomach rolls with equal parts excitement and a sick fear, his eyes flicking up to his father. He’s shifting in his sleep, muttering something unintelligible, and Dean swears under his breath, combing through Sam’s hair as he comes down.

“What about you?” Sam mumbles, his words all loose and slurred, and he shifts on the seat so he can nudge his thigh up, hard and sudden, against Dean’s crotch. Dean immediately jerks, not expecting the pressure on his aching cock, and his leg jolts out behind him, foot coming into contact with the door with a dull _thump_.

Both boys freeze, and Dean can feel Sam’s heartbeat jackrabbit-fast, bleeding through their layers and into Dean’s own bloodstream. Dean’s hand is still wrapped around Sam’s cock, holding him as he slowly softens in his hand and as the come dries sticky on his fingers; Sam’s hair is still stuck to his forehead, cheeks still flushed, and Sam’s thigh is still pressed insistently against Dean’s dick under the veil of the blanket, and Sam’s breaths are still coming short and fast, audible and unmistakable in the silence.

The front seat creaks, Dean’s breath catching in his throat, and then John’s voice comes, gravelly and sleep-rough. “Sam? Dean? You okay?” – and he turns, looks over his shoulder and Dean can see his eyes glittering in the dark, can see him looking straight at him, at them.

Smoothly, Dean covers Sam’s mouth to muffle his harsh breaths, and replies levelly, “We’re good. Sammy was just dreamin’.”

John stares for two long, long seconds, then nods. “Alright. Try’n get some sleep.”

And with that, John turns back and slumps down, his head sagging to the side to rest on his shoulder. Seconds, minutes tick by, and the two of them spend each one of them staring at each other in pure shock, heads reeling, pulses racing, and they stay motionless until John’s breaths fall into something deeper and more even.

When that eventually happens, Dean lets his lips quirk upwards, a smirk spreading across his face as he feels Sam’s cock hardening again already under his hand. His recovery time is still practically nonexistent –and Dean’s definitely not complaining – but he also knows that’s not the only reason. Dean lowers his head, put his lips to Sam’s ear as Sam bites his lip and erupts into goosebumps beneath him.

“How ‘bout we see if we can’t do better when it’s my lips wrapped around that pretty little cock, Sammy, huh?” he husks out, and Sam whimpers helplessly in reply. With no more preamble, Dean slides down under the blanket, and John snores on behind the wheel.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, feel free to leave a comment/kudos if you liked!


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